


Mona Lisa come out of your shell

by nap_princess



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Helsa Summer Event, Helsa Summer Event 2020 (Disney), Humour, I think mostly fluff?, Modern AU, Some angst, and (gasp) there was only one bed!, road trip au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nap_princess/pseuds/nap_princess
Summary: "Anywhere you want to visit?""One place," She admits without a second thought. It’s been burrowing in her mind for a long while. "But it's far away.""How far?"— HansElsa, road trip AU(Helsa Summer Event: Prompt 2 — Blue skies and dandelion fuzz)
Relationships: Elsa & Hans (Disney), Elsa/Hans (Disney)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Mona Lisa come out of your shell

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Summer](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/672640) by The volunteers. 
  * Inspired by [400 lux](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/672643) by Lorde. 
  * Inspired by [Tongue Tied](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/672646) by Glee (cover). 
  * Inspired by [Girls like Me](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/672649) by Will Joseph Cook. 



> Notes 1: 5% of the paragraphs are taken from **second-cousin to the devil** which I’ve deleted but do plan to re-use the title one day.
> 
> Notes 2: This road trip was supposed to be a light, fluffy journey but it’s ingrained in me to associate road trips to a passage of self-discovery, so there’s gonna be some small conflict. Inspired by **Amy & Roger's Epic Detour** by **Morgan Matson**.

**Mona Lisa come out of your shell**

* * *

* * *

**i**

* * *

She's not the type to be reckless.

She almost never is. In a way, Elsa’s always known her role as the oldest sister. The one who’s supposed to be forever responsible; the one who's supposed to set some kind of example (despite her wanting room to make her own mistakes and learn from those said faults).

But, _no._ She has to be 'perfect' and it's _frustrating_ to say the least — because who the hell is she kidding?

It was a dumb decision to run away like that, unannounced and full of rage. But it was one of those nights where an argument came and wrecked a peaceful dinner. It left nothing good. Just her Auntie Gerda's eyes swelling with fresh tears, Anna angry and her Uncle Kai trying his best to be the middleman.

Elsa didn't care at the time though. She simply shrugged on a cardigan carelessly selected from the coat rack before bolting out of the house, and into the cool night air and dimming streetlamps.

* * *

She runs into him at a convenience store.

There wasn't a name to his face at the beginning. She just knew her headspace was in a troubled position; mulling about her unresolved problems, something unrelated to his existence. But then under the lighting of the linoleum aisles, he sees her and there's _this spark_. This wave of familiarity. A _hey, I know you!_ moment.

"Elsa?" He guesses first.

It takes her awhile. Takes her a damn minute. But when she realises who he is, a smile spreads on her face.

“Hans?”

.

.

.

She puts her phone on airplane mode; knowing that she wouldn’t be able to ignore incoming calls and mass texts if she didn’t; thinking that it would keep luring her mind back to her troubles at home. Though, the decision comes as useless as Hans proves to be as charming and talkative to a fault, a character trait that she’s forgotten.

They sit on the cement pavement, talking about the little things and things in between while the Summer night does little to cool the sweat gathering at their necks. The convenient store's blinking sign casts shadows on their backs and the rhythmic sound of crickets fills the air when he’s not making her laugh. It reminds her of Summer Camp and the nights they'd sneak out and loiter by the lake; stargazing despite the risk of getting caught and being eaten alive by mosquitoes. 

Elsa hasn't seen Hans since he got too old to be a camper at Camp Robinson. She didn't see him for the two years she held onto the hope he'd volunteer as a Camp Counsellor, and then she got too old too, and now — _gosh_. And now he's — _what?_ Twenty-three? And she's twenty-one.

It feels foolish of her to reminisce on nostalgia. She means, what good would that do? _Sure_ , it’s arguable that they’ve known each other for years and years. _Sure_ , they’ve shared a childhood, but — what did she really remember about him? Scraped knees? Poison ivy? All those memories are redundant. 

Or so she thinks. As they continue _joking_ and _shoving_ and _teasing_ , it proves her wrong. The bond they had in their childhood and teenage years is still pretty strong.

Then Hans says, “You know, I was about to go on a long drive to clear my head. I bought all these snacks and everything, and now ..." He trails off, elbows on his knees, surrounded by candy wrappers and a now-empty soda bottle. There’s something in his tone that tells Elsa Hans still has other means of an explanation. He gestures to the lone van resting in the still parking lot. "Do you want to join me?"

Elsa looks at him, cheek fully turning and blue eyes wide. She **must** be crazy to be considering this; to daydream of getting into this person’s car; to escape into the cover of darkness with someone she hasn’t spoken to in half a decade. 

_You can’t go._ A little voice in her head whispers, reasoning facts and logic. _You_ **can’t**.

And yet, it’s a relief to not be alone. The idea of reeling through the midnight streets sounds _so divine._ She stands up as a signal, dumping their trash into a near-by bin.

Hans fishes out his car keys a second later, fingers hooking around the dull metal, and asks, "Anywhere you want to visit?"

"One place," She admits without a second thought. It’s been burrowing in her mind for a long while. "But it's far away."

"How far?"

She chews on her lower lip, then exhales. "Do you … Do you know the beach by the Dark Sea?"

"At Ahtohallan?" Hans asks, sounding much too surprised.

Elsa blinks. "Yes,"

A ghost of a smile dances on his lips. "You're — joking?"

"No." She tells him, "and I understand if —"

"My brother lives there. My _favourite_ brother." 

He puts an emphasis on this. He says it like everything is aligned conveniently. So conveniently that Elsa figures that it’s too good to be true.

"Wait ..." She blinks again. Slower this time. " _What?_ "

"Yeah, Lars, he, um — He moved away when he got married and ... I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him. It would be nice, wouldn't it? To drop by and give him a surprise visit?” There’s _this spark_ behind his emerald eyes, and it tells Elsa that it’s already decided, like nothing will stop Hans from doing this. “Would he say 'no' to his baby brother? Would he turn me away?" Hans asks, as if daring her to tell him that siblings could be _that cruel_.

"I ..." Elsa swallows. "I can't answer that." Or perhaps, the better term would be ‘she rather not’.

He shakes his head, telling her he understands. “You’re certain that you want to go, right? Because if you do, if you come with me, we’ll need to make haste, wouldn’t want to lose any courage.”

“I …” Her mouth suddenly feels dry, and her fingers link together. They look paler than usual. “We’ll need to pack our things, won’t we?”

“Yes. Clothes and toiletries and our chargers.”

She nods, more nervous about going home to get all the things she needs than travelling hundreds of miles for days on end.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” Hans says, his gaze lingering on her face.

Her grip tightens and she swallows a lump in her throat. “I want to,”

“Really?”

She raises her head. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

* * *

Her house is as dark as the other homes down the lane — it’s late. Too late for the average person to be awake. But, there's no doubt that her Auntie Gerda must be wide awake, worried out of her mind, and Anna is probably awake too, propped up on her bed, twiddling her thumbs and straining an ear for the front door.

But — 

_But_ , Elsa needs to go on this sudden road trip. It’s calling out to her. If not now, then when?

She'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. To and back from Ahtohallan. It’s best she spends seven days settling a past grievance than another few years torturing herself over it.

.

.

.

A duffle bag rests on her tense shoulder as she turns to face Hans. The weight of her open trunk creaks at her fingertips and Elsa’s heart hammers in her chest. Never in her life has Elsa been more grateful about her anxious nature; the overnight bag she’s stored into her car is really proving its usefulness.

"You can still bail if you want," Hans offers, whispering to her as he gestures with his eyes towards her house. The disappearing moon illuminates his features, twisting his concerned expression but still looking very handsome; it made her want to reach out and stroke one of his high cheekbones just to soothe him. "You're home now, I won't blame you for tapping out."

Her fingers curl around the cool metal of her vehicle and she mimics his steady stare. Her arms feel like jelly, but she holds her strength, shutting her trunk as softly as possible and then shaking her head.

"No," She says just as quietly as he had spoken. "I want to come with you."

There’s no way she’s backing out. She’ll jump at this chance to escape her life for just a few days.

* * *

And then they drive off.

Drive until the adrenaline wears off.

Drive until the **WELCOME TO ARENDELLE!** sign disappears from the rearview mirror.

Drive until the sun rises.

* * *

**ii**

* * *

They managed to sneak in three hours of sleep before the motel's staff knocks on their door and rudely informs them that their check-in time would expire in fifteen minutes.

"Scram, or I'll charge you extra!" 

Then their things are hurriedly packed and bags unceremoniously tossed into the backseat of Hans’ shitty van. And now that it’s daylight, Elsa’s able to see all the dents and grooves and chipping paint. It reminds her of the van in _Ant-Man_ , she wonders if the horn sounds just as comical.

"So," Hans says, pulling Elsa’s attention back to him. He runs a hand through his bedhead and asks, "Breakfast?"

* * *

"I can't believe you turned down coffee," Hans says, his face pinched together, though Elsa can't tell if he's squinting at her or is suffering from sleep-deprivation.

"It’s bad for my nerves. Kinda makes me …”

“Jittery?” Hans guesses.

 _Nervous._ Elsa answers in her head, but not aloud. _Anxious too._ She adds once again in her thoughts.

“Yeah, you could say that." She replies and takes a sip of her hot chocolate.

Hans lets out a hum, eyeing the waitress with the name **TIANA** printed on her nametag. He's no doubt already yearning for his second cup.

"How did you sleep last night?" Hans asks as Elsa cuts into her pancakes.

She only saws into her food more vigorously, as if her breakfast is disagreeing with her. 

"Fine," She replies — because she’s not going to admit that _the issue_ got on her nerves.

The duo had stumbled upon a problem of having to share _one motel room_ with _one bed_ when they checked-in at seven AM today. Hans had been too tired to process the grumpy receptionist’s complaints when Elsa had tried to reason that they needed **two rooms**. 

_“Two!”_ Elsa had insisted as she eyed Hans swaying. He was on the verge of collapsing as his mind floated away from his body that stood beside her.

 _"Too bad, sweetie, we're all booked! You either sleep here, or on the streets!”_ Came the response that unfortunately forced Elsa to green-light the decision. She was exhausted herself, having spent all night playing _20 Questions_ with Hans to keep him awake.

 _“Fine.”_ Elsa finally agreed. She eyed Hans once more and trusted him to pass out the moment she unlocked the dinky motel room.

And she was right, when she exited out of the bathroom, he was already asleep, leaving her to tuck him in. He stayed on his side of his bed, curled up in one position until the pounding on their motel door woke them up.

"I slept as well as anyone could in such a cheap place.” Elsa adds then asks, “You?"

"I'm still tired," Hans answers, as if his constant coffee drinking isn’t evidence enough of that fact.

"Want to find another motel? We can sleep off yesterday's exhaustion," She says, hoping that they’d get two separate rooms this time.

"Won't we be behind on our schedule?"

Elsa shrugs, though she isn’t sure why. She wants to get this trip just as quickly as the next person despite all the stigma about the journey being the best part as opposed to the destination.

Actually, maybe Elsa does know why she’s forgoing this slight delay. One, it’d be a _terrible idea_ to drive while tired. They could crash. They could get hurt, or hurt other people, or die. And she doesn’t want any of that. Two, a part of her wants to avoid seeing Anna and her aunt and uncle so soon. Yesterday’s argument still feels heated, leaving her skin burned from all the words said. She’s hoping some time away will cool off all the bad blood.

Though, she might regret pushing things back. She knows she’s always regretting one thing or another.

"I don't mind." Elsa answers.

"Mhm, I'm kinda awake now. Maybe we could walk around the town a bit. Be tourists then take a long nap after lunch?" Hans suggests, his mouth hovering over his mug.

Elsa glances out of the diner's large window, wondering what they'd do for the next few hours. She’d love for nothing more than seven hours of sleep, but the sugar in her hot chocolate is affecting her a bit and she doubts that she’d be able to drift off with ease.

"Sure," Elsa says finally. "Where do you wanna go?"

* * *

They’ve spent too long browsing. This quaint town is actually more wonderful than they had thought it would be when they had _Googled_ it and let the GPS guide them through the night. 

It was close to dinner time when they finally decided to make a souvenir shop their last tourist trap. The postcards and knick-knacks sold were things Elsa didn’t need but suddenly had the urge to own.

Maybe this is due to the fact that her brain isn’t working right. Elsa _is_ running mostly on sugar and about three hours of sleep. She wouldn’t be surprised if she found something crazy to be a sound idea.

Still, her exhaustion does little to keep the pinpricks of anxiety needling at her. She’s managed to sneak in a text into the family group chat before silencing her phone again, but it is beyond a doubt that she’s worried that her family is disappointed in her decision to literally run away from her problems and disappear for a few days.

“What do you think of these?” Hans asks suddenly, his head peeking from behind a rack. 

Elsa is slow to register what’s happening, having just snapped out of a daydream. She isn’t sure how long she’s been zoning out. The staff must think she’s been seriously considering buying a tacky t-shirt by the way she’s been staring into space.

“Think of what?” Elsa asks, pushing the last bits of anxiety away as she blinks at Hans. He wore two sunglasses and held up two vanity plates. She isn’t sure which souvenir he’s referring to. “The sunglasses or …?”

“The vanity plates.” He answers.

“For your friends?” Elsa asks innocently.

The edge of his mouth curved upwards. “No, for us.”

Elsa blinks. “Us?”

“Yeah,” 

He steps forward and lays one of the vanity plates into her palm. It read ‘Elizabeth’ — which is far from her name. Then again, it’s either that or ‘Elisa’ or something along those lines. Anna’s name has always been easier to find in shops like these.

“Why?” Elsa asks, still squinting at the words staring at her.

“To have some proof that we’ve been here.”

She stares at it still before asking, “What does yours say?” 

He held up the plate and she felt like she was illiterate for a moment.

“John?” She reads, confused.

“They don’t have ‘Johannes’,” Hans explains. A ghost of a smirk bubbling on the surface of his lips. He finds this hilarious.

She snorts. Hans really is good at distracting her from the realities that she’s been trying to subdue. Okay, she’ll play his little game. She’ll have some fun.

“Never heard of him.” She tells him.

Hans is mute for half a second. Then he lets out a laugh, one that rattles her to her core. It leaves an impression on her. She doesn’t think she’s ever heard him _this_ content.

* * *

“Finally! The motel has been waiting for you!” The receptionist snaps, already looking like she’s losing the little patience she has as Hans and Elsa walks through the door. “First names?” 

“E — Excuse me?” Elsa manages to say and Hans’ grin dips into a frown.

“You’re the Andersons right?” The girl asks back, still sounding annoyed.

Hans and Elsa exchange a look.

“Are you gonna stand there all night or what? I knew you two didn’t really cancel your rooms! You’re lucky the motel is so generous, heed my words, there’s nowhere else like this place! But this is a business so we aren’t going to reserve your room forever, you either check-in now or the motel will give the last remaining room away!”

Elsa’s eyes widen. What is with this town and their shitty customer service?

“Um —”

“John.” Hans says, speaking up first.

“And your wife’s name?” The receptionist asks, her long fingernails clacking away on the keyboard.

“Uh —”

“ _Name._ ”

“... Elizabeth,”

The receptionist clicks her tongue this time before thrusting an old-fashion key at the two. “Check-out before eleven, there’s a breakfast bar if you’re willing to pay extra.”

Hans takes the old metal thing between his fingers and passes a look at Elsa.

Great, they’re sharing one bed — _again!_

“We’ll be out by eleven.” Elsa finally says, shouldering her duffle bag.

* * *

“Is it alright if I shower first?” Hans asks, resting his luggage by a wall.

After straining to keep her sleep-deprived delirium to herself, Elsa gravitates towards the double bed. It’s exactly what her tired bones need! She doesn’t care if she’s still in yesterday’s clothing, she feels like she can just sink into it. 

“Go ahead,” Elsa answers, giving Hans a thumbs-up as she barely keeps her eyes open, “I’ll take a short nap in the meanwhile.”

“I’ll wake you as soon as I’m done.”

“Mmm. Take your time.”

.

.

.

“Hey. _Hey,_ ”

Elsa’s eyes snap open; first annoyed then startled by her new surroundings. “What?”

“I’m done showering,” Hans says, and reality sinks in. Oh, right, she’s not in her house.

Blue eyes flit towards the clock — huh, it seems like she’s dozed off for twenty minutes — then towards Hans and his sleepwear; jogger bottoms and a university shirt. For some reason, it makes the idea of them sleeping on the same bed more real.

_Wait, what?_

God, why is she even thinking about this?

“I’m up.” Elsa utters then rises. She grunts and rubs the sleep away, trying her best to seem unbothered by the thought that just passed through her head. 

Hans doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss about her, and Elsa is not-so-secretly pleased. She doesn’t look at him once while she gathers her pyjamas and toiletries then disappears into the bathroom. She’s ready to scrub every inch of herself and banish all the odd evils from her head.

.

.

.

When she steps back into the room, donned in clean clothes, Hans is already under the covers, eyes closed. Elsa notes that he’s left the lights on for her, and she goes on a routine to shut off all of them before slipping in next to him. It strangely feels more embarrassing this round than the first time.

Maybe due to the fact that she’s wide awake. She blames the shower. Still, Hans is already asleep, so, really — what’s there to blush over?

“Good night, John.” Elsa whispers regardless.

She sees Hans shifts slightly before a barely visible grin spreads on his face. “Night, dearest wife Elizabeth.”

* * *

**iii**

* * *

She wanted to conquer the sea, and he was sort of the only guy she knew who could stand the vastness of it all. So, here she is — sitting behind the driver’s seat, waiting for him.

It was a spontaneous idea that should not have become a reality or come to fruition; like those make-believe careers thought by a preschooler. Elsa didn’t think she could ever will herself to go forward with such a road trip, but here she is — experiencing this moment; crossing off _a want_ from her bucket list.

Travelling to the next town over is nothing, they can always turn around and be in Arendelle in a few hours. But now that they’re travelling further from her hometown, the beach becomes more apparent to Elsa.

And so, she sits in the van, waiting.

* * *

When he had loaded his suitcase into the back seat, slammed the passenger door and set his green eyes on her; her stomach churned.

“Hey,”

“Hi.” She replies, sounding shier than she would like to admit. She turns the wheel and steers them down the rows of other cars.

They don’t speak after that short greeting. Elsa’s lost for words. Reality continues to crash into her like waves, she can't believe she’s doing this.

* * *

They pass by tall trees and dirt roads, mountains and endless cloudy skies.

Silence fills the small space for a while. She is, at first, a little afraid that Hans will make fun of her road trip playlist. Elsa tenses the whole time _The Smiths_ blast on the radio, resisting the urge to drum her fingers against the steering wheel. But after they drive past a few towns with Hans singing along, singing in tune, she relaxes.

They watch the sky change colours; yellow to blue to purple to red.

Elsa remembers admiring the glow of the sun on his handsome, freckled face; memorising the way his mouth moved when he talked, the way he craned his neck just to look at her as he tells her the little big things on his mind.

All the while they drive, Hans does a decent job at distracting Elsa from falling asleep behind the wheel. He’s the sort of guy who’s okay about talking about everything and a whole lot of nothing. He just fills a lot of space in Elsa’s brain with his nature. It’s nice when she doesn’t want to think.

She sends him small grins as he tells her stories from his years away from Summer Camp. Of course, he’d do all the things he said he did. Of course, he’d be adventurous. If he isn’t, then they wouldn’t be here, would they?

Though, some of his recountings sound like a version of Hans Elsa would never imagine. Some of his preferences have changed; he can no longer stand sugary sweet things, his favourite fruit is apparently lemons now and he isn’t afraid to just bite into them without a second thought.

Contrary to the assumption Elsa made at the beginning of this trip, she now believes that she doesn’t know Hans Westergaard _that well._ There’s a big gap between them _then_ and them _now_. Surely, they must have changed a lot. She knows she has. Two days spent together is not enough to share their entire life stories with one another. God knows several Summers were not enough.

"You're weird," Elsa says under the cover of the moon and stars.

"Maybe." Hans shrugs, unoffended. "You should try it though."

She makes a face before looking at him. It lingers for maybe too long. “What? Eat a whole lemon? _Raw?_ ”

“Do you want to bite into a _non-raw_ lemon then? Is that even a thing?” He really is too forward, sharing every little thing with her.

(Or maybe she’s a bit selfish for rarely sharing anything with him. He still doesn’t know, does he? About the true reason she ran away with him.)

“I can live without the experience. Thank you,” She mutters.

“You sure?”

“I’m fine,” She repeats, like that morning at the diner where he asked her how well she slept.

He mimics the face she made earlier, then adds a sprinkle of his personality into it; something that conveys to her a mixture of expressions like ‘Your loss’, ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out’ and, again, ‘You sure?’

It makes her want to reach out and slap his arm. ‘Stop it!’ She wants to say to him over a teasing smile, but she resists the urge to touch him.

Things are going so well.

Then — BAM, they pass by a sign that shakes Elsa deep to her core. It almost puts a stop to her gleeful night altogether; the landmark is still as unchanged as it was years ago, and an indication that they’re several miles closer to the Dark Sea.

“Is something wrong?” Hans asks as the headlights beam past the sign, like a fleeting ghost.

“N — No,” Elsa’s voice shakes and cracks. Just when she thinks she can go a day without thinking about her regrets, they came back to haunt her like ghosts too.

As if hypnotised, her blue eyes barely takes in the details of the road before them, her limbs feel like lead. She follows the GPS’ instructions mechanically.

“I think … I just realised how tired I am,” She says to Hans, just to break the silence. Though, it’s no fib, exhaustion does seep into her.

If he notices her discomfort, he doesn’t call her out on it. “Good thing we got here just in time,” Hans says simply.

She doesn’t reply, instead choosing to veer into a brightly lit parking lot.

* * *

They enter a hotel lobby that she remembers visiting in her teenage years. The place is better, definitely an upgrade from their last two motels just yesterday. The option of living in separate rooms seems likely. Probably. Maybe. She means, the atmosphere makes her feel so. The customers queueing to speak to the receptionist look friendly and patient, regulars due to the circumstance of great customer service and a running theme of getting their way.

Still, it doesn’t bring Elsa any ease and she rubs her hands together while sitting down at the waiting area, watching for the crowd to thin.

“You okay?” Hans asks.

“Um,” Her brow dips. “This is a really nice hotel.”

“Yeah,” Hans nods, waiting for Elsa to elaborate, his hand on the armrest of the couch they’re sitting on. It’s still in the familiar shade of Venetia green as she remembers.

“I, uh, I …” How does she tell him that she doesn’t know if she wants to sleep alone tonight without disputing the ‘why’? “I don’t know … I don’t know if I’ve got the funding to book a room all to myself.” She lies.

“Ah,” He murmurs. “Our trip was spontaneous,” She nods. “And you and I didn’t actually discuss our budget,” She nods again. “We’ve still got the return part to think about.”

Her hands clench and unclench in her lap. Is he going to say it, or is he going to make her do it?

“Do you want to sleep somewhere else?” Hans asks. “Somewhere cheaper?”

Elsa touches the edges of her eye. This whole town is one big reminder of her past, she doesn’t know if that will make a difference if they stay elsewhere. “Can we risk looking for another hotel so late?”

He thinks about her words for a moment. “You’re right,”

“Do you mind?” She says in a small voice. “Sharing a room, I mean? Just for tonight, maybe? Then we can make a solid plan for the rest of the trip tomorrow,”

Elsa isn’t exactly rich, but she knows she may be a bit more comfortable than Hans. His van is evidence of this fact. But, the main point is, it’s not like Elsa’s telling a lie just for the sake of lying. It’s a believable lie. Elsa’s paid for the gas since day one, it’s fair for Hans to think she’s running a little low on money.

“I don’t mind,” Hans answers.

Her intertwined hands stop fidgeting. “Thanks,”

* * *

They find two mint chocolates on their pillows when they enter their hotel room.

“Chocolate is still your favourite food, right?” Hans asks, as if he hasn’t been watching her eat anything but that as her road trip snack.

“Yeah,”

“You can have mine then.”

“You don’t mind?” She cocks her head, then remembers, “Oh yeah, you don’t like sweet things.”

“Nope.” He replies. “But do you even like the mint ones?”

“Only if it has a 90-10 chocolate-mint ratio, otherwise it's just mint."

An amused smile spreads on his face at her answer. If he didn’t have his hands full, Elsa suspects he’d put them on his hips and strike a pose.

“You sound very logical,” He observes, putting down his bags.

“I’m not always logical.” She tells him.

“No?”

“No,” Elsa shakes her head then picks up the mint chocolates. “When I get scared, I freak out easily.”

“I never knew,”

“Not a lot of people do,” Elsa says, her eyes set on the shiny packaging as opposed to his emerald gaze. 

“ _Huh,_ ”

“Yeah ...” She mumbles. 

When she turns to face him, she expects his expression to be tight; furrowed brows and a frown etched in. She’s cycled a whole lot of friends and family and strangers with that familiar expression. But he’s none of that. He looks accepting, set on not making it a big deal.

He simply says, “I’m learning a lot about you today. I guess we still got a lot to learn about each other, don’t we?”

“I guess,” She hums, feeling warm as she tears open the package and plops the treat into her mouth.

* * *

**iv**

* * *

On Day Three on the road, with no bumps or emergencies; Elsa thinks she finally has the hang of things. She’s enjoying this trip despite the constant nagging at the back of her skull.

She sees things most people regard as boring, she sees clear rivers and desert rocks stretching on and sunlight filtering through high mountains. She remembers sticking her hand out of the window at one point; letting the wind play with her fingertips, tickle the inside of her wrist and dance on her palm.

She’s seen sights that she wishes she could describe in words, and taken pictures that do not capture the moment enough to serve its justice.

It's a little too lovely. A little too sweet.

* * *

Their first stop in the new town is at a fast food restaurant. Their main goal is to grab a quick bite and to use the bathroom before driving for a few more hours, but Hans seems to have another plan. He seems to want more.

“So, the Dark Sea, huh?” Hans says, looking up from his to-go coffee cup.

She watches him through her eyelashes. And for some reason, she feels the need to swallow a lump that forms behind her throat. 

“It’s nothing really.” Elsa begins to say. She chances the redhead with another glance and she pretends to stare just behind him, a little to the left of his ear.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” He says. Maybe it’s the full seven hours finally catching up to him, but his logical questions make her nervous. “What motivated you to do this?”

“I …” 

Her hands clasp onto her own cup of ice tea, hoping it isn’t obvious that she isn’t very comfortable with talking about this quest of hers before she completes it. 

“I like this beach. Like it a lot. Most people would tell you that all the coasts look the same, but this one’s _special_.” She tells him and he nods like he understands. She could have gone to any beach — and she means _any_ — but she wants to go to this one; even if the smell of the salty air is no different, even if the sand is just regular sand. It’s about the experience and memories attached to it. “Ahtohallan is a beautiful place and I guess I just want to see it, again.”

“Is that all?” Hans asks.

This strikes her as odd. It feels like he’s daring her to say more because he knows her first answer doesn’t sound quite right.

"Uh ..." She hums, not knowing whether to lie or not. “Yeah.” She says maybe a bit too quickly and asks, “What about you?” before she gets cold feet and backs out. “I know you said Lars is practically your best friend, but … I didn’t expect you to travel hundreds of miles to see someone.”

He gives her a funny look. “You don’t remember Lars, do you?”

“No, not really.” She answers with as much honesty as she can muster. Though, there’s no reason too. It isn’t like she’s lying or anything — still, she feels the need to be truthful. Maybe due to the fact that she had lied yesterday.

Hans does not move from his position. Does not shift awkwardly, does not straighten his posture or even blink. He just goes, “Alright then,” before plopping a fry into his mouth.

Her eyebrows knit together. _What? Is that it?_

“So you’re not going to tell me?” She asks.

The corners of his mouth tug upwards. “I’m going to, I just thought I’d tease you. You seem a little tense.”

Her thumb rubs against her cup and doesn’t say anything back, not wanting annoyance to get under her skin. 

“You don’t have to elaborate,” She says after a moment; like the night they gathered her things, he gave her an out.

“It’s nothing special, not like your story. It’s just boring, you know?” He says.

She pauses to sip her drink. “It’s good to know you’re normal, at least.”

He laughs, and it sinks into Elsa that his laughter has grown on her. It sounds more and more familiar with every passing moment; more than a distant childhood memory.

His tone tells her he’s being playful. “I’ll tell you, but maybe in the van. It’ll take too long, I wouldn’t want to eat into our time.”

.

.

.

Honestly, if anyone asked, Hans thinks his parents had only sent him and his brothers to Summer Camp because they didn't want to deal with thirteen rambunctious boys running around freely and causing a ruckus. However, after spending a couple of Summers being too grown for camp, he’s learned to miss it.

And as he rambles, reminiscing on things Elsa would never voice out loud, he gets passionate.

“I don’t remember that,” She says after turning a corner.

“You don’t?”

Hans's eyebrows furrow and his green eyes immediately stare at her, amazed that she’s forgotten samples of their youth. He immediately starts ticking his fingers, listing all the things they’ve done together over the years. Elsa doesn't get a word in because Hans starts launching into all these vivid descriptions.

"When you were nine or maybe it was ten, my brother decided that he could get away with being a dick to me when the counsellors had their backs turned. There was an argument, we both got punished. You saw everything. You didn't think it was fair, but you didn’t really know what to do either. I guess you were _too scared_ — yeah, that was probably it. You were afraid of hurting him so you told Anna and she socked him in the jaw instead. She said she did it for all three of us."

"I faintly recall this, yes, but ... I don't remember what the argument was even about. What was it? I don't even remember which brother got punched."

"It was Runo, but, does it matter?"

Elsa gives him an expression that reads 'uh, yes' but Hans only continues reminiscing.

It’s almost rewarding to listen to Hans remember every small deed in detail about her. Maybe this is how he’s convinced himself that they’re closer than they are; he’s been spending his Summers memorising her. He talks for another three minutes straight before Elsa realises this will go on for forever if she doesn't cut him off.

"Okay, I get it, I did a lot of nice things for you. But —" Elsa pauses, trying to wrap her head around everything. “What does this have anything to do with Lars again?”

“Basically, what I’m trying to say is, not a lot of people care in my life about me. Among my twelve older brothers, only Lars has really shown me how much he loves me. When he got too old and too busy to come back to camp, with university and whatnot, some of my brothers thought it’d be good fun to bully me in his absence. I told the others, of course, but most either treatened me with indifference or ignored me.”

Elsa’s shoulders drop and her grip around her shirt tightens. “Oh,”

“Yeah, which is why this trip is significant to me.” Hans utters, one hand on the wheel. His gaze shifts to her. “Don’t sound so glum, it wasn’t always bad. You and Anna, you two just stepped in, and it was … nice.”

Elsa smiles at this, though, it isn’t all that happy.

“How is Anna, by the way?” His question came like a punch.

Her blue eyes never left the road. “She’s — good?”

“You sound like you don’t know the answer to my question,” Hans points out.

And suddenly, the phone in her purse feels like a ticking time bomb, ready to burn straight through any material and explode in her face. 

“I don’t. Not really.” Elsa replies.

His eyes rests on her as he asks her, “Is there something I should know?”

She bites her lower lip and tries to dispel any uneasiness. This is a road trip to get from point A to point B, it doesn't have to be complicated. They don’t need to talk about ‘the why’. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Came her response.

* * *

“You missed the exit,”

“I didn’t,” Hans answers, his hands steady.

“We should turn back.” Elsa insists, feeling her whole body go rigid. She’s been tense since switching seats.

She suddenly dislikes everything about Hans being in the van with her. From the way he drives with only one hand on the wheel while the other rests on his lap to the way he takes up a lot of space, occasionally brushing elbows with her. It makes her want to press herself against her side of the door and make her body small.

When she had first agreed on going on this trip with him, she had intended to disappear for a week then come back, but now she’s worried. Worried that it’ll take longer than she thought it would and that it’d be too late for her to apologise to Anna and her aunt and uncle when she gets back.

“We’re going the right way. Trust the GPS,” Hans replies.

Elsa frowns. She swears she saw the damn thing blip and re-route itself.

She can’t afford to get lost.

But, if she overreacts, if it turns out Hans is indeed right, then they’d waste more time. So, Elsa braces herself and gives Hans until the next stop to prove her wrong.

* * *

The road stretches on for what look like miles. Elsa hasn’t seen another vehicle in sight for the past thirty minutes. It seems like they’ve all veered off during the earlier stages of their drive. That troubles Elsa a lot.

She would like to stop and ask for directions. Except that, there are no gas stations, mini-marts or rest stops in sight. It's been close to forty-five minutes of aimless driving since the GPS told them to turn _left_ , and their time spent in total silence is not great.

“Hans?” Elsa says, finally breaking the quiet. Her phone had died ages ago from playing all her music and Hans’ old van doesn’t exactly have an outlet to charge it.

“Yes?”

“I think the GPS has lost its connection,” Elsa says, not wanting to deem the GPS worthless. Or say something stinging like he’s the reason they’re at the wrong place.

“Do you think we’re lost?” Hans asks.

“Maybe …”

Hans sighs, running his free hand through his red hair. “Let’s just … Let’s make it up this hill first, okay? Maybe we’ll be able to see something aside from an endless stretch of road?”

Elsa hesitates, then nods.

The van starts climbing up the slope a little and then a sputtering sound catches their attention. Hans sits up a little straighter as they roll up the small incline.

"... Hans?"

"It's fine," Hans insists and pushes the pedal a bit more. The engine completely dies.

“Oh my God,”

He turns the keys and the engine roars. The old bucket of bolts moves forward. The headlights light up for a fraction of a second before it goes off.

"Um,"

Hans holds up a finger and turns the key again. The van clings onto dear life, lurches forward then cuts off.

"Hans —"

"Third time's the charm," Hans says. It’s like watching him hit an old machine, hoping the constant pushing will do the trick.

It doesn’t come back to life.

* * *

Hans does most of the talking, trying to plead for some mechanic to drive to wherever they are and help fix the broken-down van. All the while, Hans' reassurance feels false. His words sound empty as he tries to reason with the universe conspiring against them. The issue is the distance and the fact that daylight is fading.

Elsa remains silent.

She had first paced on the pavement, then sat on the hot cement before Hans tried to convince her to sit in the van. The AC obviously died, so she reasoned that it was going to be a sauna in there. Elsa didn’t know if she wanted to keep her body moving or stagnant until Hans ended up convincing her to stay in the van. He unrolled a cover in the van's large trunk area and she sort of crawled in and laid among the luggage and bags; feet sticking slightly out, arms crossed; until she stopped being mad.

So now, she’s glaring at the ceiling, feeling silly but cool from the sun. What the hell is she doing? She feels like a little kid throwing a tantrum and then hiding in a pillow fort.

Shifting her glacier blue eyes to look out beyond the double doors, they set looking out at the sunset sky; looking up at heaven, watching the world pass by them as she lays in the back of his van. She counts any planes that leave them behind in the dust. Is this her karma for leaving Anna, her aunt and uncle to pursue this silly dream?

It eats at her.

Once Hans gets off the phone, prepared to dial another new number, Elsa sits up and declares with all her young heart, "I think I should go home."

"You — _what_?"

"I have to go home. This — This trip needs to be over."

She knows she's acting spoiled, wanting to go home after being disappointed, but she can't help it. What made her think she was ready for this? She hasn’t been ready for anything since —

" _Please,_ Hans." She says all this while her eyes leak and she grips onto the hem of her shirt in frustration.

"Elsa, look —"

No.

She’s shaking her head _. No no no._

He waits; waits for her to say more. He's a social person, but he knows when to hold his tongue.

The emotion in her chest builds up, overwhelming and confusing her. Elsa doesn’t know what she wants to do, but she wants some sort of outlet. Maybe she should get up and do something; maybe furiously kick the ground? She doesn’t know, who knows? She’s just so angry.

And he can tell.

"Elsa?" Hans calls, noting her silent tantrum, counting the minutes she _can_ stay silent.

"I — I need to be alone. I —" Elsa stutters. She's furious at herself for believing in her delusions.

“Please. Wait,” His hand reaches out to stop her.

Elsa flinches away. “Oh, c’mon, Hans, even you have to admit this is another level of bad luck. Sure, it’s no flat tire or speeding ticket — but we’re completely stranded and no one wants to help us. We’ve been calling mechanics for over an hour, there’s no chance of change now.” Elsa utters firmly. “We should just call a cab and find a way to go home. This road trip is a disaster, we’ll never make it.”

He sighs deeply and for some reason, it makes her own breathing hitch. 

After all the hours they spent on the road, after all the money they spent on crap fast food and the hotel rooms they said good-bye to, Elsa can’t believe this is what stops her. She pauses then, like she wants to run away and never return, never show her face here anymore. 

But Hans doesn’t let her. He reaches over to _touch_ her once more. He doesn't let go even when she gives him this strange look. 

“Elsa, please listen to me.”

She doesn’t offer a reply; distracted by their joint hands, his sudden boldness and the feel of heat of his body.

“You said it before, didn’t you? That you freak out easily when you’re scared? I’m sorry this happened, but — don’t worry, okay? Just — breathe. We’ll get through this, you don’t have to be afraid. I’ve got you.”

Despite finding themselves in this small tragedy; of having to lie in the middle of nowhere and accept their fate; he curls up beside her like it’s the most natural thing to do.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“Calming you down. Making the best of the situation. Just telling you I’m here, I suppose.” He lists off.

She contemplates on kicking him away due to the warmth of the Summer evening, but she only makes herself comfortable, moving her back away from the metal wall and wondering if this is all she can do.

"I won’t be going anywhere, alright? I’ll be right here." He says, watching her slowly grin behind his long lashes.

She nods.

* * *

It’s getting late, the sun is setting and glaring at anyone who dares look its way. They’re both drenched in red light. If she turns her head just enough, she’ll be able to stare at him without him knowing. It’s fascinating; the way the sunset makes his hair redder (as if on fire), and his green eyes brighter than emerald gems.

"I'm sorry." Elsa says after she calms down, guilt flopping in her stomach and heart beating in her mouth. She feels horrible and twiddles with her hands, the ones resting on her stomach. "I just — I wanted to settle something personal, and — I just panicked. I kinda left home abruptly and I’ve been feeling bad about it ever since. I shouldn’t have kept it to myself, even if I wanted to,"

"I understand.” Hans answers, his elbows touching hers. Then he asks a couple of questions out of the blue, “Aren’t road trips supposed to signify some big change? Aren’t we supposed to overcome something big?” 

She raises an eyebrow in return. 

“Do you want to overcome something?” He continues asking.

Elsa is slow to answer, but she realises why Hans had prodded her earlier with stories of Lars and Summer Camp. He talked about his troubles because he wanted to prompt her to talk about herself. Maybe he’s been working her courage up because he recognises the mirror of emotion and her eagerness to let go of an old chapter of her life.

“Yes, I’m … I’m afraid of travelling to the beach alone.”

“Will you tell me why you wanted to go to the Black Sea?”

Elsa’s fingers curl into fists. She knew this would come. And yet, she wants to savour the current moment because the next version won’t be as peaceful or lovely or perfect. It’ll be sad.

“This journeying to the beach ... “ She begins, her tone steady. “It’s to the last happy place Anna and I had with our parents. They died when I was eighteen.” It never gets easier telling someone that people she loves have passed away. “Anna doesn’t really understand why I’m so obsessed with this beach. She thinks it’s unhealthy that I cling to this place. I guess she’s right,” She trembles slightly after saying this. She fights and insists on not breaking down as she recalls the last time she saw her parents’ faces. “But a few days ago, I don’t know, it got out of hand. I got into a fight with Anna the night I met you.”

“Ah,”

A dimple appears in the corner of his mouth, it gives her strength. She makes sure, this time, to tell him the whole truth.

“Yeah, so … I suppose it got too much for me.” She says. “I just want to see it one last time then let it all go. I want to let the memory go. Once it's all over, I'll call Anna. I'll tell her I'm sorry. I'll tell Auntie Gerda and Uncle Kai that they can finally stop worrying about me. I'll just ... I'll feel lighter."

* * *

A car slows down beside them. The windows were already rolled down when both Hans and Elsa glimpsed a blonde man, a big dog and two people in the back-seat smile at them.

“Hey, you alright?” The blonde man asks.

“Oh my God,” Elsa whispers in disbelief. She hasn’t seen anyone aside from Hans for the past two hours!

“Our van died,” Hans answers.

The woman in the back winces while the young man next to her made a similar face.

“I’m pretty good with cars, do you want me to take a look at it?” The blonde man continues.

“Could you?” Elsa asks hopefully.

“Sure!” He says, then, “Sit, Sven.” He tells his dog before getting out of his car. “I’m Kristoff, by the way. That’s Honeymaren —” The woman waves. “— and Ryder,” The young man grins at them.

“Can you tell us where we are?” Hans asks as he and Elsa scoots out of the trunk.

“You’re not too off from Ahtohallan, actually.” Kristoff answers, pulling out a toolbox from his trunk and then extracting a flashlight to look at Hans’ engine.

“We are?!”

“You guys took the shortcut most people don’t take on the accounts of — well, the lack of road stops and people — but yeah, you’re close to Ahtohallan.” Ryder says.

“If you want,” Honeymaren offers, “We can call our aunt over. She’s retired, but her mechanic skills are still the best. She’s taught Kris everything he should know, but he’s still …”

“ _Hey_ ,” Kristoff says defensively. “Oh wow, that’s pretty ... bad.“ Kristoff trails off, his eyes flitting away from the engine. “Actually, I take back what I said. We’re definitely going to need Yelena’s help.”

“Oh boy,” Hans mutters.

“It’s okay, our aunt is very kind. She won’t charge you or anything,” Ryder tells them. 

“How long have you guys been stuck out here?” Honeymaren asks, patting Sven who keeps poking his furry head out the window.

“A few hours,” Elsa replies.

“Gosh, do you want us to drive you to town to get some food and use the bathroom?” 

“That would be nice,”

“I could pick up my aunt after dropping you off,” Honeymaren says then looks over at Kristoff and her brother. “Are you two okay with me leaving for a bit?”

“If you’re alright with leaving us with your van,” Kristoff answers back, looking at Hans and Elsa.

Oh, right. They were all a bunch of strangers.

“Can I get your numbers?” Hans asks.

“Yeah,” Ryder’s the first to pull out his phone, flashing his contact details to the redhead.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they’re in Ahtohallan, dropped off by the beach on Hans’ request. 

“I’m thinking of getting some beach food,” He reasons. Whatever ‘beach food’ means.

Honeymaren gives him a strange look. “How long will you folks be here?”

“We could be done in an hour?” Hans guesses. It’s probably more than enough time, but he doesn’t want to underestimate anything.

Honeymaren nods then gives Hans’ phone one miss call to test out the connections. “See you in a bit!”

The back of the car disappears from view soon after.

Soon, they’re leaning against the railing, admiring the seagull infested grounds and crashing waves. Hans lets out a full, deep throaty laugh, pulling himself up by the elbows; Elsa gets a clear shot of his strong jaw and bobbing Adam's apple. 

She’s so distracted that she misses his question entirely, too busy staring.

"So, how about it?" He asks, causing her gaze to flit away from such a sight.

"What?" She hums at him. She obviously wasn't listening, too distracted.

"Are you ready to go?" Hans asks, looking into her blue eyes. He can't tell if they're the colour of the sky or the ocean. "Or do you not believe in my navigation skills? Afraid we'd get lost?" _Again?_

She blinks, blonde lashes fluttering. "Just take me anywhere, I don't care."

* * *

**v**

* * *

The climb down to the sea is long; the stairs stretched on for forever and a part of Elsa is sure she’ll slip and tumble down straight to the gaping sea and the waves that crash violently against the rocks. It’s almost intense; the way the tide pulls and swallows up everything back into the ocean, leaving only seafoam as evidence.

Hans holds her hand the entire journey, until they’re on solid ground. But even with her toes buried in the sand and the cold winds blowing at her, the reality of her standing by the ocean does not settle. This feels like a dream.

She stares off into the horizon.

It isn’t until he touches her gently, nudging her with a soft, “Hey, you okay?” does the spell break.

She blinks. “Yeah,”

* * *

They play in the sea, splashing while keeping the water above their thighs.

If she was braver, she would have let Hans drag her to do something adventurous, like take a plunge from the cliff’s edge and into the sea; hopefully not drowning; only letting the wind whistle in her ears as her heart thunders in her chest and her blood pumps through her veins.

To dive from such a high place and into the deep sea, followed by a loud _SPLASH!_ , bubbles floating around her and the feel of saltwater soaking into her; to open her eyes underwater and drink in the familiar colour of blue; to pop her head above the waves — but not to gulp in fresh air. no, it’s to find something, _someone_ — head swishing left and right to find Hans, is not something bold she’s willing to do today. But maybe another time.

As she turns her gaze upwards at the cliff, she can’t help but look forward to this possibility. She’s still far away from where she wants to be right now, but at least, she’s smiling widely.

* * *

Her hands are so cold from all the swimming. So much so that they turn red and she imagines him holding her hand, if he does, it’ll be a pleasant kind of warm.

"Are you cold?" Hans asks, dripping wet with seawater, long legs making their way towards Kristoff, Honeymaren, Ryder and Sven. Their new group of friends has decided to join them at the beach, sitting on towels and enjoying some ‘beach food’. Their vehicles are parked upstairs and Hans’ van is working perfectly fine.

"Yes." Elsa doesn't even try to hide her shivering as she wobbles on the sand, a little behind Hans. Someone’s started a bonfire and it looks really inviting now that it’s dark.

But then he's pulling her aside, tugging at her hands, cradling them in his palms.

"Look," He says, chin tipping upwards.

And she does, she lifts her head. She sees the sky and the stars that litter it, falling and streaking against the backdrop of colourful aurora borealis.

Elsa gasps. She's enthralled, but more so, she's shocked. _The sky’s awake._

“I really _like_ you, Elsa." He says. In this angle, her hair looks white and she's as pretty as an angel. Then he adds, "Make a wish," 

She does that too.

* * *

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> Notes 3: I actually don’t understand the appeal of ‘and there was only one bed’, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not a romantic person or if it’s because I’m asexual — either way, I tried, y'all. There were so many versions and drafts of this fic — but I mostly missed writing bullshit quick-bite angst so I settled on this one.
> 
> — 24 August 2020


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